The week crawls to a close. It has been one of those weeks where everything has gone incredibly quickly, and yet, at times it has felt like I have lived this week about a thousand times already and we’re still having another crack at it.
Rather than focus on this week then, let us whisk back in time to last week, one day when I was out doing chores. I was walking across a municipal park to get to my car, and I was slightly ahead of two ‘ladies’, and I use these speech marks under advisement, who were having a heated discussion about something.
1: ‘I’m not fucking living there. No matter what they fucking well say. No fucking way.’
2. ‘No. Fucking. Way.’
1. ‘I’m not fucking well living in a fucking hostel. A fucking hostel. I’ve got fucking prospects me.’
2. ‘Not a fucking hostel. No. Not with your fucking prospects.’
1. ‘Yeah. I’ve got fucking ambition. I’ve fucking well got things in the fucking line pipe I have.’
2. ‘Ummm, yeah. You fucking have. You’ve got things in the fucking, ummmm…pipeline. Fuck yeah!’
1. ‘And that fucking fucker. He gave me the fucking creeps.’
2. ‘Yeah, he looks like he fucking shagged his fucking mum and fucking well gave birth to himself. The fucker.’
1. ‘Yeah.I can’t live in a fucking hostel with a fucking ugly fuck who looks like he fucked his mum and fucking well gave birth to himself.’
2. ‘Right. Fucking dysfunctional fucking bastard.’
1. ‘Yeah. Because I’ve got fucking prospects.’
2. ‘Too fucking right.’